Honour-bound
by Acromania
Summary: He carried two burdens - a babe and the truth. She is pulled apart - by what is right and what is wrong. / AU
1. 1: Honour

_A/N: Just a small little something I came up with after watching season 7 of GoT. I added Hermione into it because I felt like it. If you haven't seen season 7 yet, don't continue reading. This contains **spoilers**!_

 _This isn't beta-ed._

 _Disclaimer: I don't own Game of Thrones or Hermione!_

* * *

"Hermione…" Ned sighs, seeing his sister slowly descending the stairs from her bedchamber. She isn't dressed for mixed company, her hair cascading in thick curls down her back - as black as their oldest sisters was. She never was someone being interested in things like that. Just like Lyanna. The only real difference between them were they goals. One strategic and intellectual, the other hopelessly romantic and headstrong. He smiles ruefully. Maybe it wasn't a difference.

He looks away from her hopefully glinting eyes when he feels her hands in his, squeezing them softly.

"Ned… are there any... " she swallows thickly and tries again.

"Are there any news about Lyanna?" Ned blinks away tears, doesn't want to be weak and fail another sister. His young face shines with his sadness, with the heavy burden he now carries. He takes a shaking breath, feels one of her hands leaving his. When he looks up to command they'll be left alone he sees it pressed to her mouth, her face uncomfortably white.

When her guards are gone, he turns back. He feels so old. The heaviness of his heart spreads through his body. Ned knows when he looks into Hermione's eyes that she feels the same way. It would be an easy way out to not say it. To never mention it again. But his honour demands it. Demands the words passing over his lips.

"Lyanna is dead." The sob leaving Hermione's throat echos around them, riding on the words he pressed through his pain and guilt. There are tears on her cheeks and desperately he wants to brush them away. When she speaks, though, her voice only quivers lightly.

"How?" Ned squeezes his eyes closed. Wants to hide from the reality of it all. But he steels himself only a few seconds after, turns around slightly and indicates to Howland Reed. The man steps forward, his heavy boots uncomfortably loud in the otherwise silent chamber. Ned watches his sister, sees that she isn't looking at the man but at what he is carrying.

"Hermione… this is Aegon Targaryen." Ned introduces taking the small bundle from his companion. He purposefully uses the whole name because he is aware that Hermione would take up all the nuances in these few words. Lyanna got married. Aegon is the love-child of Rhaegar and her. He is the truthful heir to the throne.

"I knew she would." The sentence lingers in the air when the woman takes the babe, her arms protectively closing around it. One of her fingers caresses his face, the eyes blinking open for only a few seconds then closing again.

"He'll be Jon." His sister suddenly says.

"Jon Snow." She adds, her eyes still shining with her grief. A new determination overpowers it soon, though. Hermione rolls her eyes once at Ned's confused expression.

"Robert will never accept something like this. We have to protect him. For Lyanna. And maybe," her eyes become wistful suddenly, as if she sees something noone else can see. Clearing her throat, she continues.

"And maybe for all of us." Eddard nods. His shoulders are still hurting from the weight of his sister's death. His head is still a bit numb because it tried to wrap itself around the concept. But he is as aware of the danger for the babe as Hermione.

"You'll have to take him with you." The young woman continues, her hand unconsciously rubbing the boy's tummy.

"I can't! Catelyn-"

"Catelyn will learn to live with it. She's an honourable woman. Headstrong and stubborn, but honourable. She won't accept him as her own, but she won't deny you your wish to keep your bastard son with you." He hates how logical, how clinical she sounds. As if her nephew, the last shred they have left of Lyanna is just a chess piece. Ned understands it nonetheless. When faced with traumatic experiences - like the death of their brother - Hermione always fled into her intellect.

"I'll help you protect him, Ned. I'll help you in any way I can." She finally says and as if the strength she displayed in the last hour is suddenly leaving her, she places the babe on a soft fur by the fire and sinks down in one of the chairs by it. Eddard rubs his eyes, tiredness both physically and mentally taking their toll. When he looks up she sees her small shoulders shaking. He joins her then, places a comforting hand on her shoulder which she grabs with her own.

"Noone can know about this." Hermione whispers after a while and even if Eddard wouldn't know how true these words are, he would have agreed. He would give her the world at the moment.

"I'll make sure to bind the others with an oath. They are good men. Honorable. They won't tell a soul." Ned whispers, isn't able to speak any louder. His voice breaks slightly.

"Brandon is dead. Lyanna is dead. It's only us left, Ned." As if her words cut the last strings keeping him upright, he sinks to the floor. He feels Hermione placing a hand on his head, soothing him. Tears streak his face anew, sobs shaking his build. Over his own grief he can't hear her, but her gestures say it all.

"I know."

* * *

 _Thanks for reading. Tell me what you think? Did I capture Eddard? Does he feel in-character to you?_


	2. 2: Decisions

_A/N: Thank you everyone for the follows and favorits. This is a second part for the recently published Honour-bound. I hope you like this as well._

 _ **A big thank you to**_ _ **kabg01 for beta-ing this for me super fast to get it out to you.**_

 _As always: Reviews make a writer happy.  
_

 _Disclaimer: I don't own GoT or HP. Unfortunetaly as that is._

* * *

The swaying of the carriage should put her into a better mindset. Or at least pull her into an uneasy slumber. But that isn't the case. Instead her fingers twist in her lap and her bottom lip is red from all the abuse she put it through.

The city around her isn't filled with the cheerful atmosphere she knew all big cities had. Instead she sees beggars, whores and too many dead bodies to count. Her maid presents her with a rose-perfumed veil to keep out the inhuman stench but she denies it. Hermione sees how her maid thinks her macabre for doing so. But she ignores it anyway.

 _This is what war does_ , she remembers reading in one of her books.

It pulls apart families, turns brother against brother.

A yell pulls her out of her musings and makes her aware that they just entered the red keep. When she steps out of her carriage, she is surprised that the stench isn't as bad here. With disgust and grief she sees the last remains of battle, though.

Blood colours the stones red and for a moment she watches servants carrying buckets full of dirty water.

 _Red keep indeed_ , she thinks with anger flittering over her features. With long strides she makes her way into the keep soon after, her goal burning in her mind.

Just entering this monstrosity of a castle makes her shudder, the cool, dry air doing its part. Before she is anywhere near the throne room, a man rushes by only to stop in his pace.

"Lady Stark." He greets and Hermione grits her teeth and forces a smile upon her lips.

"Ser Jaime." She greets back but forgoes her manners. She wouldn't curtsey before him. Not after what she heard his father had done.

"I am surprised to see you here, my lady." He says, his long legs carrying him back in front of her, "I always thought you hated the city. Your brother, Brandon, liked to joke about it."

"Oh, but he is… was right." Hermione swallows, even after two years unable to accept her brother's death. An emotion rushes over the knight's face that she can't place.

"I deemed it necessary to talk to Robert. He is as much of a brother to me as Ned is." She explains evasively. She doesn't trust the lion. Not one of them.

"Is that so?" The Lannister smirks slightly but Hermione doesn't take the bite.

"If you'll excuse me now, Ser." She says instead and turns around, only to feel his hand closing around her wrist softly. He squeezes it once, twice until she looks back to him.

"I never got the chance to send my condolences. For your brother and father." His voice sounds honest as far as Hermione can judge. But she is too high-strung, too angry already. Forcefully she pulls her wrist out of his gentle grasp and balls her hands into fists.

"Your condolence wasn't missed. The lords and ladies of Winterfell know better than to fall for the acts of the Lannisters." She seethes, her eyes glinting with fury. Taking a step forward, she lowers her voice to continue.

"Don't make the mistake to take me for a little girl, Ser. I know all the plays your father and even you are capable of. And I don't trust you for it." Before he can answer, she turns away and marches on. Hermione didn't miss his expression, though. The shock she witnessed will put her into quite comfortable dreams.

* * *

Eddard watches with growing trepidation how Hermione's hand closes harder around her goblet filled with the best wine the new king could find. They listened for the last half hour. Listened and didn't comment. But the Lord of Winterfell knows his sister. The deep breaths she takes are indicators enough to show him she won't stay silent for much longer. When Robert starts again to rant, a shiver runs through her small frame.

"You should have protected her, Ned. You should have. You are.. were her brother!" A sudden loud clap - a hand forcefully meeting the wood of the heavy table - lets him look up. Hermione curls her lip in disgust at the bloodshot eyes. True, he shed tears for her sister and for that she holds him dear. But a lot of that colour comes from his overindulgence in his wine.

"Enough!" She says, her voice carrying all the fury that build in her small body.

"I won't listen to you anymore. To you and your childish accusations!" Her shoulders shake and her eyes, though glinting with fury, are filling up with tears. Hermione tries to calm herself down when she sees him look away his own build overcome with grief.

"Robert," she begins softly her boots clicking on the stone floor when she steps forward, lays a hand on his shoulder.

"Both my brother and I know how you love her. Because the same feeling fills us both up. Lyanna was…" She swallows away her own emotions.

"Lyanna was an unusable woman. Fierce, loyal. Full of honour and too romantic expectations." Hermione continues, her eyes taking on a faraway look. Ned steps forward then, his head slightly bowed in shame because he as well blames himself for failing his sister. Mentally, Hermione rolls her eyes. She thought he understood that all of this was Lyanna's decision. Because she was untamable. And because she loved Rhaegar.

"I know what it means to lose someone you love." Eddard begins, his voice breaking slightly. A sudden intake of breath warns Hermione soon enough and she takes a hurried step back. In the next moment Robert - huge, muscular and broken - stands overtowering them both.

"You know nothing of the love I hold for your sister! You know nothing about my loss!" He screams, his booming voice piercing. Eddard's eyes widen and he wants to shout out, but he is too late. Hermione's hand forcefully connects with the new king's cheek, his head turning because of the blow.

"And you know nothing about the love we have for our sister! Robert, see to reason. Nothing will bring back Lyanna. Nothing will stop us from hurting." Her tears trail down her cheeks freely now and she doesn't care.

Robert's private quarters are filled with silence, the only sound the fast breathing of both him and Hermione. When he looks up again there is only pain in his eyes and Hermione's heart breaks for the man in front of her. Someone she thinks of as family. One of his big hands closes in on her face, but she doesn't pull away because she knows he wouldn't hurt her. If only because she looks so much like Lyanna. With a gentleness she didn't know is in him, he brushes away the tears. Then he sinks down into his chair again, his head in his hands.

"Leave me alone." He whispers brokenly, his voice hoarse and portraying - at least for both of the Stark's - that this wound won't heal.

* * *

"I need to go back soon." Hermione mumbles, her arm put around Eddard's while they walk through the gardens and down to overlook the sea.

"I know. And I will feel better when you do." Ned replies, his free hand touching hers softly.

"Me, too. But I need to stay a bit longer." Her determination doesn't surprise him. It's the same he witnessed just a few months back when she ordered him to raise their nephew as his own.

"You don't trust them." The Lord of Winterfell says, his voice though muted.

"No, I don't. And Robert shouldn't as well." Her hand on his arm clenches for a moment.

"He will marry Cersei." Ned confesses suddenly already expecting his sister to turn to him sharply.

"No. That can't be true. He isn't stupid enough…" Ned holds out a hand to stop her from speaking, her voice too loud for his comfort.

"He will. And taking into consideration that he is now the king, it is a …" Eddard seems to be at loss then continues, "We can't talk him out of this." The silence that greets him makes him frown and a foreboding feeling surges through his limbs.

"But maybe we can." Hermione begins, winding her arm through his again and pulling him along. Her eyes avoid him.

"Lyanna was promised to him and House Stark couldn't keep that promise. It would be honourable and the only right thing to do to arrange a marriage with him and… me." The last part Hermione whispers, her chest tightens in fear and the first cracks in her dreams.

"No." Eddard presses out through hard lips.

"But listen Ned…" Hermione tries to argue and the Lord of Winterfell has to suppress a fond smile. She likes to argue. Instead he steels himself, reminds himself what is at stake and interrupts her.

"No, Hermione. I won't. This is madness." He growls angrily, turns her around with both of his hands on her shoulders and squeezes them.

"I won't allow you to throw away your dreams like this. Your life. I won't allow for you to live in a place you hate, to be married to a man you could never be happy with." His left hand caresses her cheek. Hermione closes her eyes for a moment, a shuddering breath running through her lips.

"But don't you see what will happen if we allow for that marriage to happen?" She voices softly, her lids fluttering open. Eddard's face is hard - etched with worry for both his close friend and his sister. He nods.

"We won't let this happen. But not at the cost of your freedom."

* * *

The marriage put a dagger through both of their hearts. They couldn't intervene and so both of them stayed quiet. When everything was said and done they could only applaud cautiously and congratulated the couple. Both of Robert's and Cersei's faces didn't show a happiness that should come with marriage.

Hermione watches from the shadows when Ned promises his allegiance to Robert again and is pronounced the Warden of the North. Just like their father once was for King Aerys. She hopes with all her heart that her brother won't make the same mistakes but a churning stomach and shivering hands tell her otherwise. Honour would be both of their downfall something tells her.

"A lady like you shouldn't linger in the shadows." A voice suddenly pierces her mournful thoughts. Throwing a glance in the direction of the speaker, she raises an eyebrow.

"No one can admire your beauty that way." The man continues, his small legs carrying him further into the light of the torch a few steps away from her.

"Imp." She greets, her straight face pulling into a small smile.

"My Lady." He greets back, a heartfelt smile on his.

"Do you care for a late night stroll through the gardens?" He asks suddenly.

"So your tiny hands can feel up under my dress?" She asks and chuckles softly when she sees his taken aback expression that turns into a full smile. He bows mockingly.

"My reputation proceeds me again, I guess." He answers. Hermione steps forward, suddenly feeling too caged in the thick walls of the keep. She stops a few paces from him.

"Aren't you coming?" She asks over her shoulder and smiles when he hurries his steps to catch up to her.

When they enter the gardens, the soft sound of running water greets them. A few guards stand at the entrances to the keep but otherwise the garden is deserted. Hermione takes slow steps to the well and sits down, her fingertips dancing over the cool surface.

"I hate this monstrosity." She says randomly glancing upwards in the never ending sky.

"You should see Casterly Rock before you build your opinion on something like this." Hermione chuckles softly at the small man's answer. She didn't expect one of the lions to be this cynical - even if he is an imp. He sits down next to her. One of his hands message his legs.

"Does it bother you?" She asks, avoiding his shadowed face.

"That I'm the most handsome Lannister? Why would it." He answers, shrugging slightly. His eyes glance over to the young woman next to him. Tyrion heard a lot of things about this Stark child. But none of them seem to be quite true, he amends when he watches her for a moment longer. She seems a bit uncomfortable.

"When I walk a lot the muscles cramp. No Maester in the seven kingdoms could find a cure. Not that they put much effort into it." The last words he whispers and ends them with a snort.

"But your father…" Hermione begins, confusion clouding her face.

"My father hates me as much as Cersei hates Robert. I'm an evil he has to live with." Hermione doesn't want to pry but that tone, the undercurrent of sad acceptance bothers her.

"I guess Tywin Lannister settles with nothing but perfection." She muses softly, pulling both of her hands into her lap. Out of the corner of her eyes she sees him glance in her direction.

"That, my Lady, is true enough." He answers and even shadowed she can see his face contorting in a curious mixture of hate and love. They stay silent after that, both thinking about their words.

"I fear for the future." Hermione says after a while, because she feels like talking about it and from her first impression the youngest Lannister isn't such a bad companion.

"Don't we all." He mutters back, leaning forward a bit to reach his calves. He throws the girl next to him a short glance and raises an eyebrow.

"What? Don't you think I know my own sister?" He asks rhetorically and Hermione muses on his words for a moment.

"I once thought no one could ever know Lyanna like I do." She whispers, her hands balling into fists in the fabric of the dress she was forced to dress in.

"She was the most beautiful and headstrong woman ever walked the seven kingdoms if the talk is anything to go by." The imp answers, his voice lowered now as well. It makes Hermione like him a bit more. Because his words hold honesty and something tells her real compassion.

"That she was. And so much more. I still can't believe what happened to her. And some part of me wants to be in her stead. That she can live her life so full of fire like she always did." A sob fights its way up her throat and she presses a hand to her mouth. Suddenly her own hand is picked up, small fingers patting hers.

"You know, the lords and ladies say the same thing about you." The small man starts, his own face turned into the direction of the sky.

"Fierce and loyal, they say. Intelligent and beautiful." He continues and feels her fingers flexing under his.

"Your sister, may the seven watch over her, wouldn't want you to think this. She chose her way. And as far as I can judge as a brother myself, I think she would want you to live your life. And keep her in good memory." He squeezes her hand once again and pulls his hand away afterwards. He doesn't comment on the muted sobs or the way he feels her skirt brushing against his legs through the receding pain. He just keeps her company.

After a while he stands up, shakes his legs a bit.

"Thank you…" The Stark girl begins, her eyes huge and dark in her pale face, her wild curls dancing around it.

"Tyrion." He provides. She smiles a bit shyly.

"Thank you, Tyrion."

* * *

 _Thanks for reading! What do you think about Robert's grief and Hermione's talk with Tyrion?_


	3. 3: Meetings

_A/N: Thanks for all the favorits and follows I got so far. There is a whole plot in my head but I'm not sure I'll be able to write it all down. Here is the third installment. Hope you enjoy it!_

 _Beta: As always, lots of love to **kabg01**.  
_

 _Disclaimer: I don't own GoT or HP for that matter._

* * *

The morning dawns with a coldness to its breeze that makes her shudder. She asked her maid yesterday to wake her early. She wants to leave King's Landing as soon as possible. It all feels so false. So prestigious but rotten. The announcement of Tywin Lannister's arrival was just the last thing she needed to finally make that decision.

It's not like she knows the man personally. All she heard so far were stories. Though she always tries to not be prejudiced she trusts the people who talked to her about him explicitly. What she heard wasn't comforting. Add to that the public knowledge what he made the older Clegane do to innocent children… No, she'll try to avoid the Lord of Chasterly Rock as long as possible.

Sitting down on her bed she tries to organize her hair into a braid but is frustrated after only a few moments. Hermione sighs once, then tries again, first combing her fingers through the thick strands and then parting them. As she is about to begin anew, her maid enters her chambers, dressed already for their departure. She giggles softly when she sees Hermione's annoyed face.

"May I help you with that, my lady?" She asks, curtseying only a second after as if she remembers herself. Hermione rolls her eyes.

"How often do I have to tell you that I'm just Hermione, Joan?" She asks and holds out the leather band she wrapped around her right wrist to later secure the braid with. Her maid steps forward and sits down beside her on the bed. With practiced ease she prepares Hermione's hair.

"I'm not sorry…, Hermione. Some servants were executed for less." The Stark girl flinches at that.

"We are from Winterfell. We stick together whether servant or not. It's what makes us strong." Hermione mutters and winces when Joan pulls uncomfortably hard. When it happens again the curly haired girl throws a frown at her servant.

"I'm not sorry for that either." Joan chuckles lightly and continues her task as if nothing happened.

"I'll be happy when we leave this place." Hermione mutters, her thoughts circling around the terrifying dreams that plagued her all night. Dreams about Winterfell burning. Of Ned dying. Of pain she never can describe even if she is considered quite intelligent. She doesn't believe in prophecies and all that nonsense. Something her mother used to admonish her about because the Stark family were, are and always will be strong believers in the old gods. Her words, not Hermione's.

"I don't know. There are some… advantages I'll dearly miss." Joan says, her voice lowering at the end of her sentence. Feeling the tugging of the leather band at the end of her braid, Hermione turns around sharply. Joan exclaims that she isn't finished but the Stark girl could care less.

"Don't tell me you let one of these court nobles get into your dress." Hermione sneers, both a bit disgusted and worried for a maid that is more like a friend. Joan's cheek - pale and even - turn a violent shade of red.

"Oh, Joan…" Hermione sighs and is surprised when a sharp look from her servant lets her stop short.

"Don't." The maid whispers sharply. It feels like a slap on the wrist like her governess was fond of doing whenever her stitching lacked her otherwise intense concentration. A bit more demure Joan continues.

"I don't have the privilege of safety." Hermione swallows because though young she isn't naive to what happens to girls like her maid when they don't get married early in their lives.

 _Free game_ , one of the crude smiths at Winterfell likes to say.

"I won't let anything happen to you." The Stark girl says, squeezing her maid's hand in reassurance. Joan looks up, her eyes shining with the first hints of tears.

"I know. But maybe even you can't protect me."

* * *

Jaime watches with trepidation clouding his eyes. He doesn't know when he had forgone sleep to stand out here, looking out for the first signs of his father. The sun wasn't up though.

The kingslayer both loves and hates his father. Love because he is his son and at least when it comes to strategy they can talk eye to eye. When it comes to learn how to run Casterly Rock, nourishing their power and influence; well, that is an entire different story.

Jaime doesn't want to marry for one. Not just because of his sister and his unhealthy dependence on her. But because he hates the thought to not be part of the King's Guard anymore. It was and is the first thing he did on his own. Because he is skilled enough fighting with a sword to be accepted. Trusted enough because though a Lannister he is fair (sometimes) and knows how to lead. To win a battle.

His father hadn't anything to do with his success.

If he would accept the title - Warden of the South, he would accept that most people would think he only got it because of his father. And that would be true. No one crosses Tywin Lannister, robs him of his influence or gold, and lives long enough to tell the tale. His father is ruthless like that. It is something Jaime hates as well. There is no honour in what Tywin does. Only cold calculation.

A sigh leaves his lips, his right hand closing hard around the pommel. A golden lion. His hand falls away.

The Lannister knows he isn't smart enough to avoid his father forever. And the Gods knew Tywin would only play Jamie's cat and mouse for so long. The golden haired man sighs.

Tyrion would be a good choice for Casterly Rock. He doesn't lack the determination, interest or strategic thinking. Tyrion himself - though hurt and doing everything in his power to let no one know he is - would accept the task. Grudgingly, yes, because he has a face to lose, but he would. The only thing that keeps his father from announcing him as his legacy is his height. That and because Tywin blames him for their mother and wife's death.

Jaime doesn't know why he doesn't blame Tyrion for it. He never did, if he is honest. Their sister on the other hand. Cersei is as calculating as beautiful. And as drawn to power as their father. A clever move to put her into a position of that much influence. Even Jaime can admit that. And though he loves her like no brother - twin - should, he is also relieved that he isn't in her hand anymore. He loves the sex, their closeness, but he hates to be chained to her like that.

And when Jamie counts everything together, he just wants to be free and acknowledged for what he can do. Not because of his connections or family.

* * *

Sudden hurried movement pulls him out of his thoughts and for a second he fears his father already arrived. But the banners swaying in the wind aren't stitched with golden lions on blood red linen. It's the coat of arms of House Stark. He frowns and without a conscious decision makes his way down to the commotion.

When his boots softly touch down on the stones in the courtyard, Lord Stark reluctantly nods his head in acknowledgment. Jaime strides over to him.

"Lord Stark. You're already leaving us?" The Lannister asks, with one hand pushing his golden locks out of his eyes. The northman doesn't answer right away and Jamie can feel his penetrating dark-gray eyes on him. The younger man tries to not wilt under that look.

"No." He finally says, his chin indicating to the maid talking to one of the guards. By the looks of it he will probably journey with them.

"Oh, your sister travels back to the north?" Jaime asks and feels a strange feeling settle in his bones. Eddard nods, still eying the Lannister distrustfully. The latter sighs heavily and turns away from the activity in front of him.

"Lord Stark, I had nothing to do with the murder of Elia Martell's children." He mutters, his eyes flittering one way and another to make sure no one listens in to their conversation. Eddard crosses his arms, his eyes taking on a faraway look before the gray fire he is know for burns in their depths.

"You aren't." He admits finally and Jaime's mouth pulls into a half-hearted smile at his admission. He wants to pick up his questioning again - because something about Lord Stark's sister unsettles him enough to care about her departure. Before he can the Warden of the North pierces him with unwavering dislike.

"You didn't kill helpless children. But killing one's king isn't something anyone can be proud of-" Eddard says measuredly. His sentence is picked up suddenly by a totally different voice.

"Least of all if it is for all the wrong reasons." Jaime turns around quickly, his eyes taking in the woman - no, he has to admit woman doesn't cut it - in front of him. She is an appearance and he feels both burned and saved at her smoldering gaze.

"Lady Hermione." He says, hates that his voice is slightly breathless, and bows deeply. He averts his eyes when he sees the calculating expression on her face. It reminds him too much of his family. Of the woman he made love to on her wedding day.

"Ser Jamie." She replies, her voice not hiding the distrust she seems to feel for him. When they first met again on her way to Robert he didn't know what he did wrong. Now, he has an idea.

"He would have killed us all." Jamie says, his own voice hinting at the disbelief he feels.

"Then you should have taken your oath to heart." She says and in the know-it-all attitude she seems to carry like a shield recites:

"I offer my services, King Aerys. I will shield your back and keep your counsel and give my life for yours if need be. I swear it by the Old Gods and the New." The Lannister is taken aback for a moment. The only outward sign of his displeasure with her lecture is a balled hand next to him, the leather crunching softly at the pressure.

"Then maybe I should freshen up your memory." He seethes and wants to take a step forward but is held back by Hermione's brother.

"Careful." The Warden of the North growls threateningly. Jamie throws him an arrogant glance.

"And I pledge to ask no service of you that might bring you dishonour." He recites back. Her reaction isn't satisfying. She only raises an eyebrow and with an annoyed gesture brushes away her wayward curls.

"You don't fool me, Ser." She spits out his title like its taste would poison her.

"And you aren't old enough to understand anything about what I went through serving the Mad King." He yells back and most of the activities around them stop. A flinch warns him that he has gone too far.

"Don't I?" Her voice is heavy, muted. Not at all like the fire he heard in her words, in the way she held herself. Her posture speaks of great loss.

"I…" Jamie begins and hates that this slip of a woman can make him want to take back his words.

"Rickard Stark, Lord of Winterfell, Lord Paramount of the North, and Warden of the North. Brandon Stark. His oldest son. Heir to Winterfell and deceased betrothed to Catelyn Stark nee Tully." Hermione lets the tear slip from her eye. Not for effect. She doesn't care what he thinks about her. Losing Lyanna though brings back all the other deaths her family had to endure in the last years. Without time to overcome it, to celebrate the lives of the dead. Because war tore them apart.

"I think, Ser, you have to rethink your opinion of me. I know what the Mad King did. To poor souls and my family-" Her voice breaks slightly and Jamie feels Eddard's arm fall away. He throws the Lord of Winterfell a short glance, sees his own sorrow painted across his strong features.

"But you swore an oath. And you betrayed that oath for selfish reasons." Hermione finally ends, her eyes shining with moisture but knowledge.

"I betrayed the oath to save this city." He answers but he knows the Starks can see right through him.

"You killed the Mad King because your father told you to. Because you took a stance in this Gods-awful war after you knew which side would win." Ned replies. He closes in on his sister, pulling her into his side. Turning around slowly he tries to pull her with him but she resists. Something tells her that she can't leave him like this. There is something in his eyes, some vulnerability. Maybe, she thinks and feels terrible for being so patronizing, he can change for the better if she says the right words. Looking to her brother for a moment, she pulls away and approaches Jamie. Her eyes connect with his and softly she speaks:

"I know you are capable of stepping out of the shadows." He tries to see the meaning in her eyes but can't.

"What shadows?" He asks, his voice equally muted.

"Your House's, your upbringing's and most importantly, that of your father."

With that the Starks vanish from the courtyard. Hermione didn't know it, he is aware, that she is taking with her the last shred that clouded Jamie's judgment about what he did.

 _Kingsslayer_.

* * *

"My lady?" Joan pulls her out of her thoughts in which her last encounter with the Kingsslayer repeats itself. Hermione prides herself to be a good judge of character. But this last moment. It unsettles her. She doesn't know why.

"Yes, Joan?" Hermione answers, looking up from her hands demurely placed in her lap.

"We're approaching a camp." The servant answers nodding to the open windows of the carriage. Her slight fear is practically laced through her body.

"Which banners?" The Stark girl automatically asks, her whole concentration now at the situation at hand.

 _The war is over_ , she reminds herself but can't stop the sudden fear coursing through her veins. It makes her skin itch. Just because they don't fight openly anymore doesn't mean there aren't enemies to the new King. And to House Stark, another part of her knows.

"House Lannister, my Lady." Joan provides her own face pulled into a worried frown. Hermione tries to decide what she should do. House Lannister aren't enemies. She scoffs mentally; not openly at least. Her last encounter though provided her with enough interaction with the lions for a few years to come. Before she can command her entourage to pass by, they are halted. The young Stark can't see by whom, is relieved when she hears the southern drawl of a friendly voice.

Not a minute after one of her guards approaches the carriage, his face taut. Hermione tries to smile encouragingly but fails slightly.

"Lord Tywin wishes to invite you to join him on a meal." The guard states and his eyes tell both women in the carriage that he doesn't want them to leave it.

"Interesting." Hermione mutters, biting her bottom lip in thought. Wiping her hands on her skirt, she moves to open the door.

"My Lady. If something would happen…" The guard seems uncomfortable speaking up, but continues anyway.

"If something might happen, we are outnumbered one to five." Hermione takes a deep breath. She knows that too much curiosity can result in tragedy. Her Septa always said that. But her interest is peaked and she could never stop herself once that happened. She steps out of the carriage anyways, her eyes blinded by the midday sun.

"I don't believe to have ever heard that Tywin Lannister makes bad decisions." She answers her guard and is greeted by a mellow chuckle.

"You heard right." A deep voice answers, his town cultured and not as broad as the accent in the North. When her eyes are accustomed to the sun, she blinks twice. The man before her is stately, to say the least. A bit thin with long legs, short blond hair and beard. His piercing eyes speak of intelligence. Hermione feels she needs to be on her guard around him.

"Lord Lannister." She finally murmurs, remembering her manners and curtsying. A part of her hates that she is forced to do it. But the bigger part - the one that knows strategy and when to back down - is at the forefront and let's her forget at least for the moment, that she despises this man.

"Lady Stark." He greets back and steps forward. Without a thought he places her hand in the crook of his elbow and leads her over to a sun shield placed above soft grass. Below it is a small table decked out with delicate food and a carafe of wine with goblets. Hermione sits down in one of the small chairs. It feels rickety below her, the feet sinking into the soft soil. Out of the corner of her eyes she takes in his entourage - soldiers, probably sell swords as well. The guard's assessment is correct, she notices.

"Excuse us meeting in out of nowhere." Tywin begins and indicates to the goblet in front of her. Hermione shakes her head, her mouth hurting from the forced smile placed on it.

"I thought that maybe we would meet in the Red Keep. I'm on my way to visit my children."

"I'm on my way back to Riverrun. I have no business to attend in King's Landing anymore" She answers, her back ramrod straight. She sees the Lannister nod, his thin lips pressed into a fine line. She can't feel anger though. Only caution. On both of their parts.

"What awaits you in Riverrun?" The older man continues his questions, plucking grapes with slender hands from the bowl between them.

"Mostly? Quiet. And peace." She answers, a rueful smile playing at the corners of her lips. To that the Head of House Lannister nods. The corners of his lips turn up if only slightly as well.

"Curious that a young woman like yourself would be interested in that." He comments, the wave of his hand used to pretend it is just a random observation. Hermione knows better.

"You mean I should let my brother, the Lord of Winterfell, look for a suitable man for me?" She can't help herself from sounding scornful. His deep chuckle vibrates in the air between them.

"It is what most ladies your age would find - what is the word Cersei used… ah, delighting." Tywin muses, but his smile chases a cold rush down her spine. Her hands start to cramp in her lap. Hermione tries to relax a bit, drapes her skirt anew across her knees to hide the notion.

"As my father liked to point out. I'm not like most of the ladies my age." She replies a bit coldly and mentally scolds herself for it. She can't risk a fight here. And she needs to keep her opinions to herself. It doesn't suit a woman to be this outspoken. Not in the eyes of a man like Tywin Lannister.

 _He really is a lion_ , she thinks and averts her eyes.

"I can see why he would have said that." Tywin muses, his tone somewhere between acknowledgment and derision. Hermione feels his eyes taking her in, her skin itching wherever his eyes linger. She knows it is probably just her imagination but she can't help it. When the silence stretches too long she already wants to make her excuses. Before she can though, the older man speaks up again.

"If not for a man, what are you looking for far away from the north?" He inquires, his tone neutral again. Hermione swallows and looks up again. Forgetting her manners again, she shrugs with one of her shoulders.

"At first it was for my health. Our Maester suggested it. But I knew it was only Ned trying to save himself from being in the middle of two women arguing too much for his peaceful nature." Mentally she curses herself for blurting something private like this out to him. She recovers quickly, tries to come up with something believable that he wouldn't see as a lie.

"Mostly though, I wanted to study. Riverrun has a good library and I dearly love to read." There. A lie hidden in the truth. The library isn't that good. The Gods know how often she was out of her mind with boredom. Hermione wets her lips.

"How long do you plan to stay in King's Landing, Lord Tywin." She watches him eating another grape, chewing it carefully.

"For a while. As long as it takes to get everything in order." He answers dismissively. His words could mean anything and nothing. Hermione though knows what he means by that: the lion will sink its claws deeper into the deer. She can suppress her worry behind a small smile.

"Well, it seems we both have business to attend to then. Thank you for inviting me, Lord Tywin." The Lannister nods and stands up, pressing a short kiss to the back of her hand.

"It was my pleasure to be in the company of an interesting young lady like you." He replies with practice and Hermione knows that behind those piercing eyes the cogs are turning.

* * *

Thanks for reading! Review please.


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